


selective service

by bensolosgirlfriend



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Nurse!Rey, Slow Burn, Smut, The draft, War, cadet!Ben, cadet!Finn, nurse!Rose, selective service, soldier!Ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bensolosgirlfriend/pseuds/bensolosgirlfriend
Summary: Rey's choice to join the war effort is the easiest one she's ever made. Ben's choice to join the war effort isn't his own.She thought she’d be fine with joining the front lines, but not this soon. She’s never done more than put salve and a bandage on a man, or check their ears for an infection. She realizes all too quickly she’ll be asking dozens of men to undress so she can check every mole, sore, and scratch on their body and sending them off to risk their lives.She’ll be the x that marks the spot on every boy’s application that allows them to die for their country.When she hands Ben back his folder, there’s a bright, red “approved” stamped across the clean manilla. “Thank you for your service, Ben.”“Thank you,” he says. He looks at her name tag, and smiles a little, “Rey. I’ll see you around.”The odds of Rey seeing Ben Solo again are not in her favor.She shakes his hand, and she believes him.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

Joining the war effort is one of the easiest choices Rey has ever made in her life. 

She’ll make a good nurse, she thinks. It’s the only thing The Republic will allow women to study anyway, and she doesn’t want to work in the mess hall. They give her free books, and library access, and a tiny room, with a roommate and a bunk bed, that has more than enough space for her few dresses and one photo. She gets three square meals a day, and water whenever she wants, hot or cold. She can shower every morning if she so chooses and she gets a new pair of shoes with sturdy soles and clean laces. 

Rey doesn’t think she’s ever owned a new pair of shoes. 

She likes it here, already, even if she’s not sure if she’s supposed to. Her dresses start to fit again, her boyish figure disappearing with every hot meal. Her headaches go away and she begins to forget how spoiled dinners taste. She’s no longer afraid that she’ll have no medicine when she’s sick or no soap when she’s dirty. She reads again, and laughs again, and suddenly Rey is not just a mess of some blurry past she barely understands and a future that involves praying she’ll eat this week and hoping nobody will try to hurt her in her sleep. Rey has a purpose. 

Rey learns how to make friends. She makes new secrets with her pretty, tiny roommate, Rose, and laughs with the funny doctor, Luke, that teaches her anatomy. She blushes when a dreamy pilot, Poe, sits next to her in the mess hall and tells her he likes her dress. She likes the way Poe makes her heart flutter; it’s different than when it races because a man is looking at her funny and he might be moving toward her, because the street lights turn out for the night and she can’t feel her toes anymore to run because it’s snowing—

Rey doesn’t worry about being cold now, either. Now she has sweaters, and fleece sheets, and a new wool coat that fits her just right with a small seal of The Republic on the collar. If it’s too cold to sleep, they hand out extra blankets. There’s heat in the barracks. 

She’s never been as grateful for anything in her life as she is for The Republic. When she signs her papers promising herself to them for six years, she knows she’ll want to stay longer within her first week in the barracks. She’ll want to be a teacher, like Dr. Skywalker, or serve the front lines, like Rose’s sister Paige. She’ll be happy to stay a barracks nurse if it means she gets to continue to serve her country and wrap bandages on men like Poe.

* * *

Her entire barracks piles into a crowded room, ladies packed together in front of a tiny, staticky television with long antennae and a not quite loud enough speaker. Rey can only make out a few words coming from the program. She makes out “terrorism” before the room buzzes to life.

Leaning into her friend, she asks, “Can you understand what’s happening?”

Rose shakes her head. “I think there was an attack,” she whispers, “but I’m not sure."

She frowns. “Can you see anything?”

Rose stands on the tips of her toes, but shakes her head again. “You’re taller.”

Rey lifts her head as high and she can, but she only sees a man at a desk with a nasty combover. She sighs, and fiddles with the collar of her dress. “I hope everybody is okay,” she says. 

When the program finishes, Dr. Skywalker turns the television off and Rey can already tell that something is wrong by the look on his face. His voice is much clearer than the broadcast. “We’re entering the war,” he announces, and the room fills with a wave of gasps. Rey can’t even contain her own. “I’ll keep this brief. All registered nurses should be ready to ship out. Those about to finish their program will be here to check the new recruits, and will ship out with them.”

“Ship out?” Rose whispers. “Ship out where?”

“Where are they getting all these new recruits?” Rey counters. 

“Selective service,” she says, and when Rey looks confused, she adds, “the draft.”

Rey’s eyes widen before her lips set into a grim line. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Neither did I,” is Rose’s somber reply. 

Luke ushers them all out of the broadcasting room as soon as he’s finished speaking. He yells over the chorus of ladies tears and confusion, “Your assignments will be delivered to your rooms.”

Rey and Rose quietly stay behind. When the room is empty, Rey puts a delicate hand on her superior and watches him relax. “It’s bad,” he admits, leaning against the wall. Rey thinks he’s not half as handsome with a painful frown on his face. 

“Why are we entering the war?” Rey asks.

“Because we’re in the military,” he says, and Rey thinks his eyes look wet. “They’ve made an attack on our soil. We’ll be moving the war overseas.”

Rose nods her head. “When will the draft begin?” she asks.

“It already has,” he replies. “The boys will be here as soon as tomorrow. You’ll be finishing your classes while they train, and be assigned to units.” 

Rey feels her pulse rise. She thought she’d be fine with joining the front lines, but not this soon. She’s never done more than put salve and a bandage on a man, or check their ears for an infection. She realizes all too quickly she’ll be asking dozens of men to undress tomorrow so she can check every mole, sore, and scratch on their body and sending them off to risk their lives.

She’ll be the x that marks the spot on every boy’s application that allows them to die for their country.

“We’ll be meeting in the lecture hall after dinner to go over a basic exam one last time,” he tells them, and begins making his way toward the door. He tells them, “I doubt they’ll have us withholding any men from active duty.”

She shivers. “When did it get so bad?”

Before leaving, Luke waves them off with a hand. “Since when has The Republic kept us privy to any important information?”

Rey tries to hold back her tears. “Those boys had no choice. They went to bed last night children, and woke up this morning soldiers.”

Luke pauses. “Rey,” he says, voice soft, and Luke has a way about him that makes her feel like she’s the only person on the planet. “Every man knows what it means to register for the selective service. The last thing this is for them is a surprise.”

Rey is reminded of what it’s like to have her heart race in fear.

* * *

Rey is only eighteen years old, but The Republic has no qualms with her approving application after application to send boys nearly ten years her senior into open combat zones. She puts another application in the approved file, and calls, “next!”

She scribbles down a few notes while another man sits on her examination table. She offers him a smile and a greeting that freezes in her throat.

This boy that sits at her table is frighteningly large, far too lanky for her standard seating. He has gangly arms, and legs, and a very serious face. He’s broad, and maybe a little too thin for his own height, with the most endearingly giant ears she’s ever seen and perfectly long nose. When he speaks, cropped, dark and messy hair covering a small forehead, his voice is just as deep and perfect as she could have imagined. “Uh, hi,” he offers, maybe a little weakly, and his big ears look like they’re turning a pretty pink. 

Rey shakes her head, cheeks rosy, an awkward smile on her face because she must have been staring. “Sorry,” she mumbles, and then asks, “file?”

He hands it over, and his awfully large hands make her blush even darker. He pushes his hair back, out of his face, and she gets a glimpse at such a nice, modest forehead. Rey could stare at this handsome man for the rest of the day, but when she knows she’s been looking for too long she finally asks, “First and last name? You can start undressing.”

“Ben Solo,” he says, and she confirms with a check. He slowly takes off his dark shirt, and his flared jeans, until he’s left in white briefs and an awkward smirk. 

“Can you stand up?” she asks, and he obeys. She admires the happy trail of dark, thick hair that she can’t see the end of, and realizes all too quickly that she’s being very inappropriate, and if Rose were right there next to her, she’d never hear the end of it. With hot cheeks, she instructs him, “against the wall,” and measures him carefully. 

“Six-foot-three,” she ticks off, and ushers him onto the scale. “190 pounds. You can sit again. Date of birth?”

“November 19th, 1943,” he says.

She purses her lips. “So you’re—”

“Twenty-six,” he confirms. 

“Alright,” she checks off something again, “It’s just a routine check-up. Any surgeries?” she asks, and begins to press her hands against his neck, and then under his armpits, and she feels him shiver. “If it tickles, you can tell me.”

He snorts. “I’m fine, and no.”

“No infection,” she tells him, and then begins pressing her stethoscope against his chest. “Quiet,” she tells him, and maybe gets a little closer than necessary. His breathing is heavy, and he smells like soap and cotton detergent, like his mother still washes his clothes. She smiles. “Your heart is definitely there.”

“That’s a good sign, nurse,” he quips. 

“Take a deep breath,” she says, and he does. “And again.” It’s quiet, for a long moment, and she can feel him looking at her face, dark eyes under dark eyelashes. She pulls her stethoscope away quickly and throws it down on the exam table. She takes a step back, and she tells him, “You are perfect, Ben.”

His lips turn up into a smile.

It takes her a moment to realize what she’s said, and she corrects herself with a fierce blush and an awkward cough, “In perfect health, I mean, of course.”

“Thank you, nurse,” he says, and he begins to clothe himself without her recommendation. A pity, she thinks, to let his pretty body get scarred with war. When he’s fully clothed, he asks, “Aren’t you a little young?”

She snorts. “No.” She turns away, and takes out her stamp. When she hands him back his folder, there’s a bright, red _“approved”_ stamped across the clean manilla. “Thank you for your service, Ben.”

He shrugs. He takes the folder from her hands and their fingers brush; his hands are soft, but Rey knows they won’t be for very long. “Thank you,” he says. He looks at her name tag, and smiles a little, “Rey. I’ll see you around.”

The President of The Republic states that there are nearly four-million men eligible for the draft. Ben is one of one-hundred thousand drafted this first month, to be split across thousands of units, of which she will be assigned to one. The odds of Rey seeing Ben Solo again are not in her favor.

She shakes his hand, and she believes him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Rey doesn’t feel like she’s a registered nurse until she has the certification in her hands. She’s approved thousands of selective service files, and seen dozens upon dozens of men in nothing but their briefs with nervous smiles. She’s spent her last months checking hearts to make sure they’re ticking, organs to make sure they’re still there, and ears to make sure they’re clear. Still, it doesn’t feel real until Dr. Skywalker hands her the documentation saying so, crisp and ivory with her first name and a surname she made up. 

There’s no graduation for them like the girls that came before. In war time, Dr. Skywalker passes her a diploma in his office with a gentle smile and a pat on the shoulder. Poe tells her she’ll look pretty in her uniform that day in the mess hall, that he’ll look for her next time he needs a  _ certified _ bandage. Rose giggles with her that night in bed and tells Rey she hopes she’ll be the nurse for Temmin Snap’s unit. 

When she and Rose try to imagine where they’ll be sent overseas, Rey admits she’s never been on a plane. She tells Rose that she hopes she can fly with Poe one day, and Rose wiggles her eyebrows and laughs. She tells her that when you fly, you can see the tops of mountains and the cars get smaller, and smaller, you can look down at the clouds and watch the ocean sparkle. Rey never thought she’d leave her alley, and now she’s days away from seeing the world.

They’re all called into the lecture hall the morning after their certification. Rey tucks her freshly pressed, white shirt into her crisp, white skirt. She fastens her white beret into her short, perfectly rolled hair, and clips her Republic pin to the collar of her button-down. When she’s satisfied with the way she looks, white shoes as clean as they’ll ever be and tights entirely unripped, she dusts pretty pink blush on her cheeks and finishes her face with dark, red lipstick she borrowed from Rose. Rose locks the door behind them, and they walk toward the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Luke greets them with a strained smile. “Good morning Rey, Rose.” He waves them towards their seats and they watch the rest of the room fill.

Rey crosses her legs, shifting in her seat. She’s not the only lady in the room fidgeting. Rose doesn’t say a word to her, too enraptured in her nail beds to notice her best friend’s nerves. She wonders how only five months worth of training makes her ready to hold the wellness of six cadets and a subordinate officer in her own hands.

Luke quiets down the room with a cough. “Good morning, ladies.” He smooths down his white coat. Rey is sure he’s as nervous as the rest of them. Luke was just a doctor, like Rose was just a student, like Rey was just an orphan. Now, Dr. Skywalker is a superior officer. She suddenly forgets why she was so nervous about six cadets when nearly three-hundred nurses answer to Luke. What might look like a kind smile, Rey knows is an uneasy one. “I have your assignments. Please approach the desk in an orderly fashion."

Rey and Rose wait for the rush to end. They watch women they studied with smile and blush, cringe and cry as they accept their choiceless fates. Many of these women never thought they’d be wartime nurses. They thought they’d sail through their six years of service, leave with a degree and health insurance for their future families, and look back on this time with the nostalgia one does their youth. Rey isn’t sure what she’ll be looking back on years from now, but Rey hasn’t been a youth for a very long time, anyway. 

They approach Luke’s desk last. He hands them their assignments with a sour smiles. “Rose, unit twelve is yours, that’s subordinate officer Snap. Rey, you’ll be with subordinate officer Dameron.” 

Rey can’t help that her lips twist into a smile. “Thank you,” she says, and slowly reads over the names of the six cadets she’ll be spending most of her time with. She recognizes one from the selective service exams.

Cadet Benjamin Solo.

Rose twists her hip into Reys when they’re in the hallway. “Looks like your little flying dream is coming true.”

Rey feels a hot blush rise on her cheeks. She doesn’t know how to tell Rose her dreams are more foreboding than they are admiring.

* * *

Rey greets Poe with a smile that makes him blush and a handshake he doesn’t squeeze nearly hard enough. “Officer Dameron.”

“Rey!” he exclaims, and he’s smiling at her, all doey brown eyes and pearly whites. “Imagine how excited I was to see your assignment last night.”

“As as excited as I was, I’m sure,” she counters. Poe is one of the most handsome men she’s ever seen. His curly, chocolate hair and sharp jaw never cease to make her swoon, his charming words and affable temperament light up every room. Rey thinks Poe might be her first crush. 

“Please, let me introduce you to everybody,” he says, a warm hand on her lower back. Poe doesn’t need to yell to get the attention of his command. “Guys, this is Nurse Rey.”

“Hi Nurse Rey,” one of the cadets yells from the back, a ginger with a sweet smirk and a teasing wave. He has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. 

With a roll of his eyes, Poe tells her, “That’s Hux.”

She nods her head, and before she can introduce herself, another man is taking her hand in his, shaking it furiously and smiling brightly. “I’m Finn,” he says.

She laughs. “Hi Finn.”

Poe pats Finn on the back, startling him with a laugh of his own. Finn drops her hand, but continues to smile, absolutely infectiously. “Welcome to the unit,” Finn says, and finds his seat next to Hux. 

Poe makes rounds with Rey. He introduces her to cadet Nodin, an older, gruff man, cadet Oddy, a funny looking boy that can’t be more than twenty, and cadet Mitaka, a man that shakes her hand like he forgets she’s a woman. Then, she meets Ben.

“I remember you,” she says, like she can forget his dopey ears and dark eyes. Like she hasn’t stared at him in the mess hall since she examined him, inspecting his broad shoulders in his fatigues and his long fingers tearing apart an orange. “Ben Solo, right?”

He nods his head, and his smirk is lopsided and lovely, but he doesn’t shake her hand. “Nice to see you again, nurse.”

It drops back to her side. “Likewise.” 

There’s a pregnant pause, and Poe snorts next to her. Rey doesn’t realize Ben and her have been staring at each other until he says, “Take a picture, Solo, it’ll last longer.”

Ben shakes his head, bangs in his face and a hot blush on his cheeks. “Whatever, Dameron.”

Rey wants nothing more than for Ben to look at her again, so she can see exactly what Poe is teasing him for. Instead, Ben makes himself busy with a packet in front of him—liability waivers, she’s sure—and Rey follows Poe toward a desk. 

“We won’t have this room for much longer,” he tells her. He passes her a few folders—his cadet’s lives summed up into thin, manila folders—and pulls out her chair for her to sit. “We’ll be shipping out next Friday. Until then, get yourself acquainted with the guys. They aren’t  _ that _ bad.”

Rey laughs. “They seem very kind.”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t go  _ that _ far.” 

Rey sifts through all their folders carefully. She pauses with a frown when she gets to Oddy’s and realizes he’s only eighteen. She sifts through Nodin’s and Mitaka’s, who aren’t selective service, and Finn’s, who’s twenty-first birthday was only last week. She sees that Hux doesn’t have his appendix, and Poe still hasn’t had the chicken pox. When she gets to Ben’s file, she notices her own handwriting.

Ben Solo, twenty-six years old, with an address from the far West and no career noted. Her eyes fall on the man, with moles that make him look even younger than he is and limbs she thinks he’ll never really grow into. He’s reading, very slowly; she’s sure he’s been on the same page since she left his corner nearly ten minutes ago. Finally, he flips the packet over. Rey wonders to herself if Ben from the West with no career is even trying to absorb anything he’s reading in the first place.

Especially when, suddenly, he’s looking at her.

She can’t help the flush that spreads through her cheeks. She almost looks away, but Ben’s full lips are turned into a tiny smile and his hair is a little longer than when she met him almost three months ago. She smiles back. She wants to take care of these men, she decides.

She wants to take care of Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my mediocre boyfriend who makes sure I don't have spelling errors! Anyway, imagine like season 1 girls Adam Driver and you'll be right about where I am.


End file.
